“Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours,” said a famous philosopher once.

“With a little understanding you can find the perfect blend.”

Perhaps then someone should have mentioned that to the writers of BBC One’s latest Sunday night ‘cocoa and slippers’ murder fest, What Remains.

Well, I say ‘murder’ but we don’t really know if there’s even been one yet.

Oh sure, there’s a body – you can’t have a good murder without a body, particularly if, as is the case here, it’s been decomposing in the attic – but what’s not clear is how it all happened.

Okay, perhaps I should explain – a young couple moving into their new flat find a leak in the ceiling and go up into the loft to investigate, only to find the desiccated left-overs of the previous tenant who everyone assumed had done a moon-light flit two years previously.

Did she just go up there of her own accord, bang her head on a rafter and, being the lonely type with few mates to speak of, go unnoticed all that time – or was she done in by one of the other residents in the block?

And judging by the look of them I know where I’m putting my money.

What a shifty bunch, not least the peeping tom-ish, secretive old bloke on the ground floor who seems to have spare keys to all the other flats in the building and a haunted-looking, and possibly captive, woman secreted away in his kitchen making him endless plates of sausage and mash.

I forget his name for now, so I’ll just call him Mr Red Herring instead. Way too obvious to be a killer that one.

No, if I were to take a guess at this early stage I’d finger, as it were, Steven Mackintosh’s shifty journalist Keiron, if only because I can’t remember that last time I saw him in anything were he didn’t play a wrong ‘un.

And, given that Frank Gallagher from Shameless is the detective leading the investigation, he’ll probably get away with it too.

Actually, David Threlfall – who played the nation’s favourite long-haired Mancunian lay-about in Paul Abbott’s gritty comedy-drama – was pretty good as the shambling Detective Inspector Len Harper, who, despite the hoary old trope about him being on verge of retirement etc etc, managed not to come across too cliched.

Still, I’m not entirely convinced a senior officer from The Met would to turn up to work wearing quite that much eye-liner, whether it was his last day on the job or not.